


Interrogation and Exfiltration

by Elendiliel



Series: Lightning Strikes [30]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Interrogation, Lola Sayu, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29899878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendiliel/pseuds/Elendiliel
Summary: It had to happen at some point... After the best part of twenty years fighting the Empire, Helli Abbasa, Jedi Knight and first-among-equals of Lightning Squadron, has finally been caught. Naturally, her captors aren't going to waste this opportunity for information gathering; naturally, she doesn't plan to give them what they want, even when one of the Empire's finest takes over the interrogation. The only question relevant toheris when her brothers will come back for her.
Series: Lightning Strikes [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087898
Kudos: 1





	Interrogation and Exfiltration

**Author's Note:**

> Chronology: 1 or 0 BBY, some time in Season 4 of _Rebels_. I may have to watch it again to work out exactly when all this can happen. I don't think there are any spoilers for the series, though.
> 
> Sub-fandoms: characters primarily from _The Clone Wars_ , some from _Rebels_ and one from my imagination; setting from _The Clone Wars_ ; timeframe firmly _Rebels_.

“I must congratulate you, Lady Abbasa.”

“On what? And why do you think that’s my name?” Helli could only just focus enough through the pharmaceutical fog that filled her head not to say, “how do you know my name?” She brought her muzzy attention to bear on the speaker. It took longer than it should do to work out _his_ name. Uniform. Insignia. Species. “Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

“On your survival, naturally. According to Imperial records, you and all but one of your unit were killed some eighteen or nineteen years ago. And yet, here you are, alive and as well as can be expected. And as for how I know your identity…” He picked up Helli’s shieldstaff, which had been on a table beside him. It would have been out of her physical reach even without the restraints that pinned her in place. A surge of un-Jedi-like anger pulsed through her as she saw her shield/weapon, now as much a part of her as the sabre at its core, in the hands of one of the Empire’s most feared officers. She knew Grand Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s reputation all too well. One of her regular sparring partners had served under him, and spied on him, for some time, and her friends the Spectres had run up against him on many occasions. A brilliant strategist and tactician who excelled at predicting his enemies’ next moves, with a usually well-controlled savage temper and a deep appreciation for art and culture – which he employed to equally deadly effect. As now.

“A curious choice of weapon. Lethal in the hands of a skilled user, but primarily employed for defence, and much favoured by your people.” Of course he knew her species. Her ears were a dead giveaway. During the mission on Onderon that had gone so disastrously wrong, landing her here (wherever “here” was; she had some nasty suspicions but no actual data), they had been hidden by her tightly-braided hair, but that wouldn’t have lasted five seconds once anyone took a closer look. And, indeed, a bright red keratin curtain hung over her left eye, presumably pulled from her plait while she was unconscious. She longed to brush it away, but couldn’t. “The engravings on it, however, are not all Alban. I once made quite a study of the styles used by the Jedi in designing their – or, should I say, your – lightsabres, and these closely resemble the markings associated with the style known as “Duty and Resolve”. I imagine if I undo these,” he opened the hook-and-eye fastenings that held the staff’s secret compartment closed, “I will find – ah, yes. A lightsabre. Such fascinating things, and so personal to their owners. This one,” he lifted it out, and Helli had to suppress another wave of wrath, “speaks of a resilient, practical person, who nevertheless knows that there is more to life than the bare necessities of survival, and is easy to underestimate. A good fit for the only representative of your species to grace the Jedi Order in the last half-century of its formal existence. Which, to judge by your reactions as I handled what must surely be your most treasured possessions, would be you.”

Helli bit her tongue. Her blood-mother’s old admonition – _if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all_ – echoed through her head, mercifully. With the cocktail of drugs being administered through an IV line addling her brain (truth serum was only the start of her problems in that respect), she would otherwise have told him exactly what she thought of him – and too much more besides. Thrawn carried on. “As I say, a curious choice of weapon. You survived the Purge – how, I do not yet know, although I intend to find out – and chose to continue to fight, but not directly using your sabre. That would have carried too great a risk of execution, and while I don’t expect you fear death itself, you _would_ fear not being alive to do what you consider your duty. So you compromised. If my analysis of various reports of rebel activity over the years is accurate, it is probably the only compromise you have made since the Clone Wars. Many rebel cells balk at killing civilians, but very few will refuse even to kill droids, let alone soldiers. You may alter your appearance,” case in point: the sunset-red hair, emerald eyes and near-white complexion she was wearing just then, “but your methods leave a clear trail. Incidentally, why _do_ you refuse to kill?”

This was safe ground. She could yield to the drugs a little to answer that question. “You appreciate art, I see and hear. Imagine something made by the greatest artist in the universe, of all time. Flawed, yes, but no less beautiful for that. A reflection of its flawless creator. Could you bring yourself to destroy it?” He flinched slightly, but otherwise gave no sign that he had heard.

He put down the sabre and moved closer to Helli. She wanted to lean away from him, but the holding field around her prevented any movement greater than breathing and speaking. “You are fortunate that no-one else has made the connection. It was not difficult for me, of course, but there are others with access to the same records and enough intelligence to draw the obvious conclusion. Perhaps you had help?” Oh, sweet stars. If he went too far along this path, he’d find Torrent. She couldn’t risk any harm coming to her _nerra_. From a strategic or from a personal viewpoint.

She fought her way through the mists of truth serum and found a suitable true but misleading reply. “Who in your army would help a rebel, or a traitor? I thought your soldiers and officers were conditioned to the best of Palpatine’s ability.”

“Sometimes, even that is not enough, as you surely know. Which is why I have not reported my suspicions – yet. The men who captured you had some idea of what you might be, so they brought you here. Incidentally, do you know where you are?”

“Not for certain.” It was the vaguest statement the drugs would allow.

“You are in the Citadel, on Lola Sayu.” Helli only just suppressed the desire to laugh. He wasn’t as clever or as well-informed as he thought, then, if he didn’t know who would be coming for her. “A place designed to hold those who turned away from your Order. And when they failed to break you, even here, I was called in. I have some experience with your kind. Kanan Jarrus and Ezra Bridger have caused my TIE Defender project a great deal of harm over the past few years. I would much rather be elsewhere, overseeing that work, but I cannot disobey orders. So let us keep this brief. How did you survive Order 66?”

“No comment.” Well, he said he wanted it kept brief. And her natural honesty would have prevented any denial that she knew what Order 66 was, even if the truth serum hadn’t.

“Where is the main rebel base?”

“Classified.”

“Where is the rest of your unit?”

“How in blazes should I know? I’ve been stuck here since our last mission went sideways.” Lightning Squadron had been handling an unusually complicated information drop to do with a factory on Onderon that was involved with Director Krennic’s top-secret project. Of all the rebel cells that formed, were affiliated to or occasionally cooperated with the Alliance to Restore the Republic, only Saw Gerrera and some of his Partisans knew the planet better, and only Thunder Squadron knew it as well as their companion unit did. But Saw refused to leave Jedha, and Thunder Squadron had been requisitioned by Cham Syndulla on Ryloth. (Actually, he wanted the Spectres, whose second-in-command was his daughter, but they were busy on Lothal, and had nominated Thunder Squadron as their replacements.) “Complicated” had been an understatement. The dead-letter box had been compromised, a trap had been sprung, and Helli had had her work cut out covering her brothers’ retreat with the priceless intel. A stun-bolt from behind had felled her while she was deflecting laser fire from the soldiers she _could_ see, unable to react in time. The next thing she knew, she was in a holding field with an interrogation droid about to administer truth serum and a mind-probe. It didn’t know that such things had never fully worked on Picti. Their wills tended to be too strong, and their minds broke first. Helli’s will was unusually powerful even by her native people’s standards, both naturally and as a result of her training and experience of trauma. Hence Thrawn being called in.

Even he couldn’t break her durasteel-strong, kyber-strong resolve. Over and over again he asked her the same questions; over and over again she refused to give him the answers he wanted. It was a relief to both of them when the door chimed, Thrawn (his patience hanging by a thread) called out “Enter!” and a stormtrooper stepped inside. “There’s a message for you, Grand Admiral.”

“Well, what is it?”

“This.” Before Thrawn could react, the soldier drew his blaster and stunned his superior officer at point-blank range. Helli’s broad grin reasserted itself for the first time since her capture as the Chiss folded up. It widened when the “stormtrooper” removed his helmet, even though he hadn’t been top of her list of possible rescuers. He’d been near the top, however, and she could see why he’d volunteered for this part of the mission. “Nice one, Alex.”

“Thank you, Hel.” Alexsandr Kallus of the Rebel Alliance, formerly of the Imperial Security Bureau, matched his sparring partner’s expression as he deactivated the holding field around her, swiftly moving forward to catch her as her previously pinioned legs took their time realising that they should be supporting her weight. “And thank you for wearing him down. Thrawn is a formidable fighter most of the time, but nobody is at their best after an argument with you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Hel pulled the IV line out of her hand as carefully as she could manage and looked around for a first-aid kit. She could stand unaided now, more or less, but the fog in her head would take some time to clear.

“Is this what you’re after?” Two other “stormtroopers” had entered the room (from Kallus’ lack of alarm, Hel knew that they were also part of the extraction team) and one was holding out a med-kit. She accepted it gratefully and fished for a plaster for her hand as the others took off their helmets. As expected, they were Fives (team medic in Torrent’s and Gungi’s absence) and Spark, her brothers. She had known they would come for her, and Fives was one of the few people alive who had both infiltrated and escaped the Citadel, so she hadn’t been worried about their prospects of success, but it was still so good to see them. She made sure to tell them so before switching to CO mode. “Spark, Alex, I need you to check the computer records. See how much data they have on me, and wipe anything compromising. Fives, you and I need to deal with this one.” She looked down at Thrawn. “He’s guessed who and what I am. If we don’t clear _his_ memory in that respect, it won’t be good for any of us.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth, but they were necessary. _For you,_ nerra.

“Can’t you use the Force to erase his memories? You said Katooni did that to that Inquisitor on Garel.” Spark was right, confound him. Hel braced herself for the admission she had been dreading.

“I can’t sense the Force. Not at the moment. The drugs they gave me – until they wear off, I’m worse than blind. Dead weight. I’m sorry.” She meant the last two words with all her heart.

“Hel.” Fives put his hands on her shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes. She forced herself to hold eye contact. It was hard for her at the best of times. “Force or no Force, you’re still one of the smartest, strongest people I know. You’re _never_ dead weight. So don’t apologise for something that isn’t your fault. I know how much it annoys you when other people do that. Even the best leaders get caught sometimes, and this place was designed for Jedi. But not for Picti, and not for clones. We’ll get through this, and you’ll be back to your old self in no time. Now, let’s see about this Imp.” He turned his attention to the still-unconscious Grand Admiral. Sure enough, the interrogation suite’s pharmacopoeia included mnemonic inhibitors. Neither Fives (on whom they had once been used) nor Hel liked the idea of employing such drugs, even on Thrawn, but to ensure their and Torrent’s safety, they knew they had to do it. Once Spark and Kallus had had a quiet word with the interrogation droid, it was downright helpful, and managed the fiddly task more competently than the inexperienced organics could have done.

Before they knew it, the computer system and interrogator had been cleared of all traces of Hel’s presence, and they were ready to go. Prisoner and escort was the obvious exit strategy. The rebel agent and her “guards” drew very little attention as they marched through the prison’s corridors. Suspiciously little. Finally, Hel could bear the lack of information, made worse by the continuing absence of the Force-sense on which she had relied since early childhood, no longer. The recorders _had_ to have been fixed – Spark and Kallus were both excellent at reprogramming computers, and would no more have overlooked that detail than forgotten part of their armour. “Who’s the diversion?” There must have been one. The Citadel couldn’t be so badly guarded, even under the Empire.

“The Bad Batch. Once they heard you were in trouble, there was no holding them.” Hel didn’t bother to hold back her grin. She knew Clone Force 99 of old. Wrecker was a distraction and three-quarters by himself, for a start. And that sounded like him now. “Tech provided our IDs and updated blueprints, Crosshair got us through the back door we used last time, and he, Hunter and Wrecker – well, you can hear what they’re doing.” They could see them, too, or rather the mayhem that always surrounded Kamino’s maddest sons. As Hel watched, a narrow-gauge stun-bolt ricocheted from stormtrooper to stormtrooper along the length of a corridor that intersected with theirs, moments before they reached it. Crosshair’s signature move. The clone himself strolled along behind, falling casually into step with Lightning Squadron and Kallus. “General.” Crosshair was a man of few words, but a brilliant shot.

“Not any more, and certainly not here. Good to see you, though. Where are the others?”

“You can see where Wrecker’s gone.” They could. Like Crosshair, Wrecker tended to leave a trail behind him. The difference was the cracks in the unconscious soldiers’ armour. ST armour really was _useless_. “He’ll come round and meet us at the front door. Hunter’s holding the way to it open for us. Tech and Echo will meet us at the main landing platform.” Of course Echo hadn’t come inside. This was where he had almost died. Clones might be bred to resist PTSD, but still even the Bad Batch weren’t sufficiently out of their right minds to expect him to want to set foot here again.

The diversion was working beautifully, up until they were nearly at the front door. This was the delicate part, where distraction and extraction converged. Hunter had his back to the entrance, and was giving almost as good as the stormtroopers intended him to get, but he was severely outnumbered. Wrecker was still half a corridor away. Lightning Squadron, Kallus and Crosshair found cover behind a pallet of crates and prepared to thin out the opposition. Fives passed one of his DC-17s to Hel. He had taught her to use it, so many years before. His lessons came back to her now as she aimed and fired, aimed and fired, soldier after soldier falling unconscious even without the aid of the Force. Between the six of them, and Wrecker charging out of a side corridor and straight through the leg of an approaching AT-DP (that was to say, _through_ the leg itself, causing the machine to collapse while the clone barely slowed), they were rapidly in a position to make for the exit, Hel using her staff to deflect laser fire from the remaining stormtroopers, relying on her own reflexes rather than the Force for the first time in decades, and making a reasonable job of it. Not perfect, but good enough.

“Echo, we’re coming out.” Hunter spoke into his commlink as they neared the door. It slid open, and the team piled through as it closed again, controlled by the fifth member of both Lightning Squadron and the Bad Batch. There were no guards visible, but they still made all speed towards the hovering transport that had to be their ride home. One ascent by cable later, all eight were on board and catching their breath as Tech, their pilot, steered the ship out of the atmosphere and towards their entry point for hyperspace. Helli could just see, through the viewport, areas of the Citadel going up in flames. Wrecker must have left some explosives behind. She hoped nobody had been in those sections. But she wasn’t going to ask just yet. Now was the time for taking stock, taking a rest, and preparing for debriefing. Hopefully catching up with her old friends as well. Between Thrawn’s interrogation and her team’s and their friends’ exfiltration, it really had been quite a day.

**Author's Note:**

> This is likely to be the last fic in _Lightning Strikes_ for some time, until the plot-droid assembly line starts up again. In the meantime, I am editing and publishing an old work-in-progress in my Sequel Trilogy series _A Medic's Guide to the Galaxy_ , which may or may not be of slight interest.


End file.
